Playing With Toys
by TeaOli
Summary: Uhura isn't happy. She's too cool to crush on an instructor. Gaila can't stand the whining and the mooning, so she does something to help her hard-up roomie. Complete.
1. The Toy

"I hate this, Gai! It's like being back in high school," the slender cadet complained. She sat on her bed, elbows on knees, head in hands. "This morning in class, the thought '_He doesn't even know I'm alive!_' actually crossed my mind. I mean, how _ridiculous_ly _juvenile_ is that?"

"Aww, sweetie, I understand." The green-skinned redhead plopped down on her roommate's bed and slung an arm around her dejected shoulders. Her friend glanced at her and raised a skeptical brow.

Gaila grinned.

"Okay, so maybe I don't," she conceded, bumping her forehead against Uhura's. "But I can sympathize, even if I can't empathize. And now… now, I think it's time I brought out the big guns."

Uhura tried to frown, but couldn't quite stop an amused mini-grin from escaping her control.

"Gods, Gaila! This is _not_ the time to ask to me go toy shopping with you," she whined. "No means no! Just this once, let me mope in peace, all right?"

That only sent the Orion woman into manic spasms of laughter that jolted the roommate she still held in a near-headlock.

"Ow!" Uhura exclaimed, wrenching her neck free then throwing herself backwards on the bed. Gaila's giggles reached the point where she could no longer remain upright and she fell over onto her roommate's lap, still shaking convulsively.

Covering her eyes with a forearm, Uhura took in three deep breaths, searching for calm. Once she felt she'd found it, she reached down and patted the still-trembling Orion on her glossy red curls.

"Ugh," she muttered. "This isn't like me. Gai. Tell me I don't usually get like this over guys. Oh _gods_! You haven't seen me like this before, have you?"

Gaila went still and pushed herself up to peer at her roommate seriously. Then she had to yank her friend's arm off her face so said roommate could return her regard.

"Ny, I didn't even know you _liked_ guys until this year," she told her, all amusement gone from her voice. "Honestly, for the first year and a half here, I suspected they'd roomed me with an android to prevent any pheromone accidents. If I hadn't seen you on the dance floor second year, I would have been convinced of it."

She scrambled off the bed and knelt on the floor. Ducking halfway under her bed, she continued her chatter, "But, anyway, there's no need to do any shopping, 'cause I've already got just the toy you need riiiiigh…. here!"

Uhura lifted her head just enough so that she could watch as Gaila slithered back from beneath the bed dragging a small gold rectangular box and frowned.

"Yuck, Gaila. If you think I'm going to take one of your used toys—" she began.

Her roommate cut her off.

"Gross, Ny! I know you think I'm super-randy — Well, okay, so maybe I am, but I'm also hygienic," she said with a frown of her own. "I'll have you know I had this made — at great personal expense, mind — just for you. But now I'm not even sure you deserve it!"

Standing, she stalked back over to Uhura's bed. When her roommate didn't sit up, she grabbed a smooth brown arm with the hand not holding the box and yanked. While her friend was occupied with stopping herself from falling to the floor, Gaila plopped back down next to her.

"Here," she said, dropping the box onto her roomie's lap.

Uhura eyed first Gaila, then the box, with suspicion.

"What is it?" she wanted to know.

Gaila flashed a beatific smile.

"Open it and see."

With obvious reluctance, Uhura began carefully undoing the gold wrapping paper.

"Oh, for the love of Zetlek, Ny! Just open it, already." Gaila made a grab for the box, but her friend swung it out of her reach.

Still, she obediently began ripping off the heavy wrapping to reveal an unadorned brown cardboard box. She slipped her eager-looking roommate another doubtful glance before pulling off the top.

Her first sight of the contents elicited an involuntary gasp.

She reached in and pulled out the sixteen-inch toy and cradled it in her arms.

"Oh," she murmured, sounding a little breathless.

Gaila grinned cheekily.

"I _was_ gonna make it bigger — life-size would have been ideal," she told her, "but probably would have been too hard to hide."

Uhura beamed at her friend as she absently stroked the toy in her arms.

"No, Gai, this is perfect just the way it is." Suddenly, she hugged it to her chest. "I love it!" she squealed.

After at least three minutes of ardent hugging, Uhura stopped and grew serious.

"Wait a sec," she said, her tone hesitant. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

Gaila huffed and shook her head.

"Zetlek, Ny, if I have to explain _that_, you're more repressed than I thought!"

Uhura laughed at her friend's theatrics.

"No, no! I meant, am I supposed to sleep with it?" she asked. "Or did you expect me to stick pins in it?"

Gaila shrugged and stood up.

"Whichever makes you happy, sweetie," she said as she flopped onto her own bed. "I just need you to get over all the gods damned mooning, already."

Uhura smiled and raised her Lieutenant Spock plushie to her lips.

* * *

**A/N:** Because back in the day, when I used to fall asleep cuddling my brother's Mr. Spock piggy bank, I always wished I had something softer.


	2. Come Out And Play

Uhura tugged at the slipping strap and shifted her bag to rest more firmly against her hip. She glanced around the nearly empty grounds by the Computer Science Building. Then, because she couldn't resist, she slipped her hand under the flap, wormed her fingers around three PADDs and a couple of old fashioned books to stroke the soft figure resting at the bottom of the satchel.

She allowed herself a small happy smile before resuming both her habitual no-nonsense expression and her purposeful stride.

.

.

Spock heard the door chime and checked his internal clock. Cadet Uhura was early. Again. Deciding he would refrain from commenting (again) on her habit of showing up well before their appointed meeting times, he tapped the bottom drawer of his desk closed with his right foot at the same time he called for the routinely premature cadet to enter.

The door slid open with a quiet hiss and Uhura walked in, a large dark brown bag pressed against her side. She stood at attention and spoke before he could open his mouth.

"I know," she said glancing at the chronometer on her wrist, "I'm six minutes and nine seconds early. Again. Thank you agreeing to see me so soon."

Spock could not be sure, but he thought he sensed a touch of sarcasm in her tone.

"You may be seated, Cadet," was all he said, however.

She sat and reached into her bag to produce two PADDs.

"I brought a recipe I thought you might like us to try for Thursday's dinner," she said, sliding one of the hand-held computers onto his desk. "You mentioned once that you enjoyed Rigelian cuisine, but didn't know how to prepare any of their dishes. I found this at a new bodega not far from campus that caters to offworlders. They carry all the ingredients we would need, as well."

The young officer quickly read over the PADD and nodded.

"Very well, Cadet," he told her. "I will procure the items we require this week and expect you at my quarters no later than 1900 Thursday evening. Now, if you are ready to begin, we expended your additional six minutes and nine seconds."

The cadet shifted in her until she was sitting ramrod straight. PADD in hand, she focused on Spock.

"I believe you said we will be working in Andorian today," she said in that language.

.

.

An hour and a half later, the cadet left Spock's office. He was not surprised that she had made considerable progress in her spoken Andorian (she already read like a native) since they'd begun their informal conversation sessions at the beginning of the semester.

By human standards her progress in all four of the languages they practiced was astounding. She worked harder than any of the other cadets he had taught since he had taken the planetside teaching position while Captain Pike waited for Starfleet to finish building his new ship. Since the Enterprise would be completed in just over a year, Spock was fairly certain he would not have an opportunity to meet a human who surpassed Cadet Uhura.

He steepled his hands over his desk as he toed open the bottom drawer to his desk. Uhura might have an annoying habit of showing up at inopportune times, but she was good company. He would miss having her in his classes during her final year at the Academy.

The sentiment was illogical, he knew — she was already too knowledgeable for the one language class she took with him and she'd already finished the bulk of her computer science courses. The rest of her Academy career would be predominantly made up of communications engineering classes.

It would be selfish of him to wish her to hold herself back just because he enjoyed having a student intelligent enough to challenge him.

Leaning forward, he reached into the drawer. He frowned when he noticed the tiny scrap of red clinging to the drawer slides.

It would seem he would also need to purchase sewing supplies when he went to pick up groceries.

* * *

Two days later, Spock sat in the common area of his quarters, carefully making tiny, even stitches with his newly procured needle and thread. The going was slow, as sewing was not an activity in which he had much experience. He was very near the end of his project when the door chimed.

Cadet Uhura.

Early.

_Again_.

Spock sighed, just barely resisting an impulse to grit his teeth. Truly, Cadet Uhura had a knack for bringing out his human half.

He stashed his sewing project behind one of the decorative pillows his mother had insisted would "brighten the place up a little" and bade the cadet to enter.

She came in looking flushed and excited, once again carrying the dark brown satchel — notable because she usually arrived for their Thursday night cultural exchanges empty-handed unless it was her turn to provide the ingredients — and a white paper sack.

"Sorry I'm so early," she said in a rush. (It was 1858.) "But I stopped for dessert on my way here and they had it ready much faster than I anticipated. And since it's so hot outside, I was afraid it would be ruined if I waited before chiming."

Spock's eyes flickered over the sack held aloft in her left hand.

"Does your… dessert require refrigeration, Cadet?" he asked, slightly amused. It was not often that Uhura offered an excuse, but when she did, they were usually good. Avoiding food spoilage was a logical enough reason for an early arrival.

Her erect posture drooped in demonstration of her relief.

"Thank you!" she said, offering him a blinding smile.

That was another thing she did not give him very often — a smile — but when she did… Spock broke off that train of thought and reached for the sack. She swung her hand away. He could easily have twitched it away from her, however, as she clearly was not ready to relinquish it, he nodded towards his kitchenette, instead.

"It's a surprise," she explained as she moved past him, offering another smile over her shoulder. "I hope it'll be a good one."

Spock shook his head once she was facing forward again, and wondered at the normally serious and sedate cadet's behavior of late. It was unlikely that he would be able to guess, but he was confident he could get to the bottom of the mystery before the end of the evening.

He followed her to the kitchenette and moved to the cook surface while she stashed her dessert in the chiller.

"If you will set the table," he told her, "our meal will be ready in fifteen point eight minutes."

His acute hearing allowed him to discern her slight, though abrupt, intake of breath. He glanced over his shoulder to see her standing, stock still, one hand raised towards the cupboard where he stored his small collection of plates.

"Does something distress you, Cadet?" he inquired.

She turned to face him. Her face held none of the joy he had observed upon her entrance.

"You… you started without me?"

He dismissed a twinge of annoyance at the human propensity to state the obvious and question statements of fact. It was not an activity Cadet Uhura engaged in very often in his presence. Besides, he admitted to himself, she had every reason to question his activities this evening. They usually prepared these meals side-by-side.

"As the summer break is almost upon us, and you will soon be occupied with your exams, I thought you might prefer to spend the majority of the evening… talking," he said. It was not exactly a lie, per se. "It seemed prudent to have the meal already started upon your arrival."

She glanced down, staring at the floor for a moment before giving a short nod.

"Oh. Okay," she said, and turned back to cupboard.

He watched as she removed two dinner plates and two small bowls, her movements not as graceful as was her wont. Yes. They would most assuredly be talking later tonight, he decided.

.

Dinner was a much quieter affair than usual, as neither knew much about the food they were consuming, beyond the fact that it tasted good.

"In spite of outward appearances, Rigelian physiology is really quite similar to those of Vulcans and Romulans," he commented when both of their plates were nearly empty.

She smiled, but it was not the glorious display she had shown earlier in the evening.

"I know," she said. "I wonder if that's part of while you enjoy their food so much?"

Spock cocked his head to the side.

"Perhaps, Cadet," he replied. "Although, the fact that individual tastes vary greatly within a single species would suggest that your hypothesis has little or no merit, it is not unreasonable to suggest that favorable chemical reactions, common to both Rigelians and Vulcans might prove to be a factor in my enjoyment. It would not, however, explain why _your_ plate is nearly empty." At this, both the corners of his mouth and his right eyebrow rose. He was gratified to see his words and expression earned him another one of her bright smiles.

"Perhaps, Lieutenant," she said, seeming unaware of mirroring his words, " we are more alike than we were previously aware."

Spock watched her intently as a warm flush spread across her cheeks.

"In that you are mistaken, Cadet," he murmured. "I have been aware for two years, nine months and four days that we have many common interests."

Uhura nearly choked on her last bite of food.

"Two years, nine months and four days ago couldn't have been more than a couple of days after you met me, Lieutenant," she pointed, her eyebrows furrowed. "After you tried to kick me out of your class when I was a first year."

Spock ignored the mock censure in her tone. She had, very occasionally, teased him about the incident throughout their closer acquaintance.

"Indeed, Cadet," he said. "It was _precisely_ two days after your first appearance in the graduate-level Vulcan course I was teaching that semester. I checked your records immediately, of course; I understood you had received Professor Merle's permission to enroll before he was injured and I took over.

"Your full pre-Academy records were unavailable right away, however. Once I read them, and learned of your accomplishments and interests, I no longer had any reservations about accepting you as a student."

Uhura grinned with real amusement. It was not her gloriously joyful smile, but it had its own merits, Spock reflected.

"So, you thought I was pretty impressive," she teased.

"Your record showed impressive accomplishments… for a young human woman," he teased back. "I observed for myself upon first meeting you that you were aesthetically pleasing."

Uhura froze and her brown skin took on rosy undertones.

Spock froze and his ivory skin flushed pale olive.

"Are you ready for dessert?" she asked, nodding at his empty plate.

* * *

**A/N:** Oops! Meant to have this completed today, but this chapter is a bit longer than I meant it to be and FanFic has been giving me trouble for the last hour. (A lot of you probably already read this on lj, anyway.) I probably won't be able to post the final chapter until Sunday.

**NOTE:** I posted the third chapter to lj because (again) FF isn't letting me post and I'm not sticking around trying tonight. (9/4/2009)

Disclaimer: I own diddly squat.


	3. You Got Played!

Uhura jumped up and began clearing dinner dishes from the table.

Spock remained seated and mentally kicked himself for his ill-advised comment about her (unusually pleasing) physical features.

"I hope you'll like dessert," she called from the kitchenette. "It's not Rigelian, but I figured it would go well with the meal and that it would be something you would enjoy."

She walked back over to his eating alcove and, with a small shrug, grabbed the two small bowls she'd placed on the table earlier.

"Forgot these," she explained unnecessarily. Spock merely nodded in acknowledgement.

When she returned from the rooting around in the chiller, the two bowls were occupied by something with bright orangey-yellow skin, covered in spikes. A mound of pale green substance protruded from each.

Her smile was hesitant as she approached the table.

"It's kiwano sorbet — African, not Rigelian — at least the fruit is African. We don't usually make it into sorbet at home," she said in a bit of a rush. "Like I said, though, I thought the flavor would go well with our dinner."

Noting her discomfort, and reasonably certain that his earlier statement had something to do with it, Spock decided to move the evening into his originally intended direction.

"Cadet," he said, eying the way her hands trembled around the bowls, "perhaps you might prefer to consume dessert on the sofa? I believe you would be more comfortable there."

Uhura's eyebrows flew up.

"In the s-sitting area, s-sir?" she stammered. "You wouldn't feel… odd, eating in an area made for socialization, entertaining and, only very occasionally, study?"

Spock realized, with another twinge of something that was three quarters amusement and one quarter annoyance, that she was merely parroting his own views — stated during their very first meal together — back to him.

Amusement won the battle of emotions and he gifted her with one of his rare near-grins.

"Indeed, Cadet," he said, the teasing note slipping back into his voice. "It would seem we have spent enough time in one another's presence to ensure that you have rubbed off on me."

Uhura nearly dropped the bowls at his choice of phrase.

Spock swallowed a groan and motioned for her to precede him to the sitting area.

"Cadet, have you given any more thought to what you would like to do once you have graduated?" Spock knew the question had been worded somewhat inadequately. Experience told him that Nyota Uhura thought of little else. Perhaps he should be more specific.

"Lieutenant," she said before he could speak further, "I think you know exactly what I want to do as soon I graduate."

Spock stuffed another spoonful of the cold sorbet into his mouth before speaking. Uhura had been correct; he found the flavor of the kiwano — something akin to a cucumber, mixed with a banana sprinkled with lime juice — quite pleasing. And in light of the Rigelian meal and the affects the cadet's presence seemed to be having on him, refreshing.

"I meant to ask," Spock told her once his most recent flush had faded, "'Have you given any thought to what you would like to do other than serve on the Enterprise?'."

The cadet's hand stopped mid-scoop and she let her spoon fall back into her bowl. Her eyes grew wide with apprehension. Slowly, deliberately, she placed the bowl on his coffee table and turned to face him.

"Sir?" Her voice trembled almost as much has her hands had earlier. "Sir, are you trying to tell me something? Have I already been disqualified for consideration?"

Once again, Spock mentally kicked himself. He had wished only to encourage the cadet to consider a fuller range of possibilities for her future. It was never his intention to frighten her or "break her heart." And he suspected Enterprise, in the fashion of the human metaphor, "held her heart."

"No decisions regarding Enterprise's crew have been made beyond choosing her captain and first officer," he assured her. When she sagged with relief, he nearly sagged with her. "I merely wished to ascertain whether or not you have given consideration to any alternatives, as I have frequently advised you to do."

Her shoulders stiffened a little, but she appeared to be nowhere near as tense as she had been before he had explained himself. His Vulcan ears caught her muttering, "constantly, endlessly, incessantly, nearly obsessively" as she studied her hands which rested in her lap.

She looked up and turned to face him, drawing her legs up beneath her in what he recognized as her "serious talk" posture. It was a position she often assumed as she became fully engaged in a conversation.

As he expected her to do, she reached behind her back to grab a cushion as she opened her mouth to speak. It was another of her habits to hug one of the colorful throw pillows to her chest as she warmed to a topic.

He did not expect the first sound out of her mouth to be a sharp yelp of pain.

"Ow!" she cried, and she darted a glance over head shoulder. "Damn it, Spock! What the hell?" Her head swung back around in order to increase the effectiveness of her glare, and she seemed to remember to whom she was speaking. "I mean, damn it, sir! What the hell are you hiding behind the cushions?"

He should have been able to stop her:  
She was a human woman; he was a half-Vulcan male.  
She was just shy of completing her third year at the Academy; he was a fully trained Starfleet officer.

But she was slightly "pissed" and in pain. And he was nearly frozen with (what would soon be) embarrassment for the third time that evening.

Uhura reached into the corner of the sofa and pulled out three small bits of red fabric, one of which sported a big needle laced with crimson thread.

She glanced at Spock again and eyebrows drew together.

Then she shook out the largest of the bits of fabric to reveal a tiny, but oddly familiar, red turtleneck and sweater. Her frown deepened

The second bit proved to be a miniature red miniskirt. She very nearly scowled at him.

When the third bit showed itself to be a minute replica of the red briefs that were part of the uniform for female cadets, her head shot up again and she fixed him with the fiercest glare he ever seen on her outside a bar brawl.

"You!" she accused, pointing a finger at him. "You're Gaila's supplier?"

Several thoughts crashed into Spock's head at that moment.

First, Cadet Uhura knew about her roommate's toy habit.  
Second, she believed that he had some part in the manufacture of said toys.  
Three, if he chose, he could save himself from additional embarrassment by allowing her to continue to believe he worked in concert with Cadet Gaila.

But his Vulcan side, which had apparently been absent for the majority of the evening, won this round and he decided to go with the truth.

"Not at all, Cadet," he informed her. "Last week Cadet Gaila gifted me with what she described as a 'therapy doll,' and I unfortunately tore some of its garments two days ago. As the damage appeared too extensive to make repair a reasonable pursuit, I opted to manufacture replacement garments. Today presented my first opportunity to do so."

Uhura leaned back against the arm of the sofa, all anger clearly faded from her posture. Spock suspected she was holding back laughter, in fact.

"So, you've been making doll clothes," she asked, not quite hiding the giggle that threatened.

"Indeed," he admitted with a nod.

And then her shoulders stiffened again, and Spock could almost see the gears turning in his head. (Obviously he was spending too much time in the company of humans if he was using such colloquialisms in his internal dialog.)

"Wait a minute," she said— demanded, really. Her dark eyes were speculative, now. "I want to see this 'therapy doll'."

Spock had truly hoped she would not ask that of him. But he decided to comply anyway.

"If you will wait here, Cadet, I will return momentarily," he told her as he pushed himself up off the sofa and made his way to his sleeping chamber.

When he returned, as promised, moments later, Cadet Uhura was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, head down as she stroked an object that rested between her knees and seemed to speak softly to it.

Quietly, Spock crossed the room and cleared his throat when he reached the other end of the sofa.

She looked up.

Spock held up his Nyota Uhura plushie.

Once again, Cadet Uhura frowned fiercely. She jumped up and peered closely at the doll, who dressed in loose wheat-colored trousers and a pale orange T-shirt. Precisely as she was dressed.

"She came with a wardrobe?" Her face was a mask of fury, jealousy and incredulity.

Spock glanced down at the Spock plushie dangling from her hands. It was dressed in a replica of his Academy instructor's uniform.

"Indeed, it is most complete and contains many of the garments I have observed you wearing," he said. "However, I believe it is a common rumor on campus that I live in that uniform."

* * *

**A/N:** This isn't the chapter I promised y'all (chapter 4 will come later today). I've actually been trying to post this since Friday (and some of you probably read it already on livejournal), to no avail. FF is still having problems, but, luckily, StarTrekFanWriter showed me how to get this posted anyway.

So, make sure you thank her and continue reading her excellent _Descartes Error_!

Usual disclaimer: I own nothing.


	4. Now, Play Fair!

Uhura attempted to put aside her anger and envy — she'd deal with Gaila and her lopsided gift-giving practices later! — and asked the question for which she wanted an immediate answer.

She squared her shoulders and forced her eyes off the replica of herself. "Sir? How did you tear her uniform?" she asked, her voice tentative. Even before the words were out of her mouth she realized that she might not want to know the answer to her question after all. How had he been _using_ the thing?

"Two days ago, Cadet Gaila stopped by my office to explain the purpose of the doll to me," he said, his tone still even and emotionless. "I was in the process of examining it when you arrived for our scheduled meeting."

Realization dawned.

"So, ah, what? Did you shove her in your bottom drawer as soon as you heard me chime? Sir." Uhura smiled as if her prediction was a joke.

"Precisely," he confirmed with a slight nod.

She smiled in earnest and sat back down on the sofa, motioning for Spock to do the same.

"Do you mind me asking why?" She suspected she already knew, but figured tonight wasn't a night to be presumptuous. "I mean, were you… embarrassed to be caught playing with a doll, sir?"

Spock released a sigh that would have been inaudible to anyone with less than Uhura's unusual-for-a-human aural sensitivity.

"I was not _embarrassed_, Cadet. Nor was I _playing_ with the therapy toy," he said, in a voice he might use to explain a concept to a particularly dense child. "I was simply concerned with the possibility that having such an object in my possession might appear to inappropriate."

Now Uhura gave a throaty chuckle.

"Sir, I believe, no matter what your intentions with the doll might have been," she told him, "most people would consider it inappropriate for you to own her."

He cocked his head to the side.

"I had no intentions for the doll," he said. "Cadet Gaila told me such items were used in a form of therapeutic treatment, but left to attend a class before giving me fuller details. I had been trying to determine possible uses for such a thing when you chimed."

A burning desire to know blossomed and threw out rhizomes in Uhura's head.

"Were you able to find any — uses, that is — either before I arrived, or in the time that has elapsed since then?"

Spock cocked his head, a curious expression on his face.

"I believe there was once a human belief that sticking pins in an effigy of an opponent or enemy could be used to cause that person harm," Spock replied. "An article I read stated that even humans who did not believe in magic, still used such items, either in jest or in order to relieve stress."

He cocked an eyebrow at her as if to see if she was aware of the practice. At her slight nod, he continued.

"It would not be unreasonable to believe this was Cadet Gaila's intention when presenting me with the doll," he went on to say. "However, if it was her hope to help me process the emotions that come from dealing with difficult students, it would have been more logical had she given me a replica of Cadet Kirk."

Uhura knew damned well that Gaila's intentions hadn't been so benign, but squelched the impulse to share that information with the lieutenant.

Her roommate had a ninety-seven point eight percent success rate in match-making. Until she had (more) reason to believe she and Spock weren't part of the two point two percent failure rate, Uhura had no intention of showing her hand just yet.

"Sir, I sincerely doubt Gaila gave you a voodoo doll in my image," she said by way of testing the waters. "It stands to reason that she may have had other stress-reducing activities in mind when she chose to have this particular doll fabricated."

Spock eyebrow lifted.

"Oh, really, Cadet?" He appeared to be genuinely intrigued, but his minutely altered expression gave nothing useful away. "What do you mean by 'other stress-reducing activities'?"

Swallowing hard, Uhura made a decision.

"Sir, do are you aware of the use of therapy dolls in the psychological treatment of children with mental or emotional disturbances?"

______________________

It took a great deal of persuading before Spock conceded to Uhura's wish to demonstrate the use of the dolls.

"I fail to see how encouraging a child to engage in role-play would prove more affective than simply asking the child to tell the therapist what is wrong," he had said after learning the dolls' original purpose.

Uhura had rolled her eyes at him.

"Spock, we're talking about _children_!" she had protested, not appearing to notice that she had dropped his title in the heat of her argument. "Some of them are pre-verbal, and even those who aren't might not be able to accurately or fully articulate what it is that is bothering them."

He had acknowledged her point, then caused her to frown by adding one of his own. "But, Cadet, neither you nor I is a child. And you, as a Xenolinguistics major tracking towards communications officer can certainly not be said to be pre-verbal."

She'd only just been able to stop herself from grinding her teeth.

"Perhaps it is a human thing, sir," she'd said, trying to keep the rapidly approaching defeat she was feeling from coloring her voice. "Sometimes, it can be easier for humans to explore a personal subject if they disassociate themselves from it. The practice is especially effective in children, but has been know to work with adults, as well."

Spock had shaken his head softly.

"The human capacity to fool oneself never ceases to astound me, Cadet," he'd told her.

Uhura's had hand tightened into a fist around her plushie's forearm. As with so many things about humans, it seemed he couldn't wrap his Vulcan-trained, though brilliant, mind around the idea. One couldn't be faulted to disbelieve he was half human, she thought.

"It's not really about fooling yourself, sir," she'd said.

She had been nearly ready to give up when a suddenly idea flashed through her head.

"Sir?" she'd tried, the questioning note creeping back into her voice. "Perhaps a demonstration would make you understand better?"

The silence following her suggestion had stretched so long that at first, she'd been afraid he wasn't going to answer her at all. But then he'd surprised her by agreeing.

She'd taken one doll in each of her hands and placed them on the sofa, facing each other, between her and Spock.

"How about I have these two act out our earlier discussion," she'd suggested.

At his slight nod, she'd commenced.

______________________

Spock did not think that cadet Uhura's interpretation of his voice was very good, although she did a fair job at coping his mannerisms. His two main problems with the exercise, however, was beyond the cadet's control.

He shot out a hand to take hold of the Spock doll, which Uhura was holding on his half of the sofa.

"Cadet," he said, interrupting her (wholly verbatim) repetition of his earlier comments. "I find that certain incongruities make it harder for me to accept this demonstration as a viable means to instruct me on the use of these _therapy dolls_. Firstly, you will notice that while the Uhura doll is wearing a near-exact replica of the garments you are currently wearing, the doll representing me is in uniform, while I am not."

He watched as the cadet's eyes ran over his cream-colored trousers and soft green cotton shirt. His own clothing, he noted, was not so different from hers.

"Sir, my doll has clothes like mine because Gaila has access to every piece of clothing I keep at the Academy. I'm sure it's only a coincidence that we're dressed alike tonight. As Gaila doesn't have similar access to your clothing, it isn't reasonable to expect the Spock doll to have a similarly complete wardrobe," she said, obviously attempting to imbue her voice with patience. "Under the usual circumstances, therapy dolls used in a clinical setting would not only not necessarily wear clothing similar to the individuals they were meant to represent, but the might not even resemble them physically. Some of the dolls were even made without facial features, in order to increase the disassociation factor."

Spock inclined his head. He decided not to mention her earlier outburst at finding that the Uhura doll had come with more clothing than she had been given for the Spock doll.

"Actually, Cadet," he said, instead, "your last point brings me to the other incongruity. As you attempted to reenact our earlier conversation, did you fail to notice that the dolls have no mouths?"

He resisted the upward tug at the corners of his lips when her (very pretty) mouth turned down at the corners,

She glanced down at the dolls for a second before raising heated eyes to his.

"What do you suggest we do, Lieutenant?"

Spock reached over to the coffee table and picked up the half-finished uniform briefs.

"If you will give me a moment to complete these, Cadet," he said, "you may dress the Uhura doll in her uniform. I believe I will concentrate on the exercise better if the two dolls are on more equal footing."

Uhura raised a skeptical eyebrow, but (thankfully) did not question his logic.

"And what about the mouths, Lieutenant?" she asked. "Are you going to embroider on to each doll?"

Spock did not look up from his sewing.

"That would be beyond my current sewing skills, Cadet," he told her. "Fortunately, Vulcans are touch telepaths, and despite my heritage, I am considered to have an extremely powerful talent in that area. Therefore, I will facilitate communication between the subjects."

In short order, the uniform briefs were completed and the cadet had stripped the Uhura doll down to her plain white bra and panties. Spock her mutter that she was "going to wring Gaila's neck" she began to dress the doll in the tiny uniform.

"Another moment, if you please," he said, and jumped up from the sofa and walked to his sleeping chamber. Quickly, he located the items he wanted and returned the sitting area.

The cadet had finished getting the doll into its turtleneck, sweater, skirt and briefs. When she looked at him, he handed her a pair of proportionately miniscule black boots. With a muttered, "thanks" she slipped them on the doll's feet.

Spock resumed sitting and took up the Spock doll.

"Let us begin again, Cadet," he said, and he reached little Spock's hand out to touch mini Uhura's temple.

* * *

**A/N:** I meant to get more up, but this chapter spiraled out of control. I'll post the second half of it tomorrow night or something.

Usual disclaimer: I own nothing.


	5. Turnabout is Fair Play

"Wait, sir," Uhura commanded, apparently not caring that Spock was her superior officer. "You need to know how this kind of thing works. For a successful session, you have to say what's on your mind. You can't take the time to sort it out. Do you know what I mean? It won't be as beneficial if you take the time to think about what is the logical thing to say. Can you handle that, sir?"

Spock considered this unexpected information.

"I have trained nearly all of my life to follow the way of logic, the Vulcan way," he said after a slight pause. "It will not be easy for me to do this. However, as you believe that it is important to the success of the exercise, and as the dolls will communicate through a simulated mind meld, then very well, I shall attempt to do as you wish."

Uhura's shoulders relaxed and her lips lifted into that brilliant smile again. Spock was sure it was her smile that caused him to add, "Even I have not always followed the path of logic, Cadet."

_____________________

"Cadet, have you given any more thought to what you would like to do once you have graduated?" Spock pretended to have the doll in his hand "ask" the doll Uhura held.

"Lieutenant, I think you know exactly what I want to do as soon as I graduate," she repeated, this time barely able to hold back a grin.

"I meant to ask, have you given any thought to what you would like to do other than serve on the Enterprise?"

"No, sir," she said, truthfully. "But I have considered what assignments I might find acceptable if by some amazing chance I am not offered a place on the ship of my choice."

Spock surprised her by using his thumb to incline little Spock's head.

"And what assignments _would_ you find acceptable, Cadet?" he had the doll ask.

"As you know, I've already been offered a place in the Academy's graduate studies program. I accepted, I would also be given instructor's duties, as I've already completed several graduate-level courses," Uhura-doll responded, her non-existent lips not moving. "Captain Garrovick hinted that the Farragut needs a new CCO, and that I might expect to move into the position very quickly — much faster than I probably would on Enterprise.

"The Diplomatic Corps has also expressed an interest in recruiting me as a special liaison to Starfleet. That would probably require training with Starfleet Intelligence first, so I find the idea somewhat intriguing.

"But none of those are Enterprise, sir. None of those are what I want."

Spock cocked his doll's head to the side again. It's embroidered black eyebrow remained stationary.

"I see," he intoned. "I support your resistance to those assignments. Though all of them could be considered very prestigious for an officer of your age and experience, none of them are right for you."

Uhura raised surprised eyebrows, then furrowed them in confusion. She made her doll stand straighter.

"I don't understand, sir," she said. "What do you believe is wrong with these assignments? As you said, they are all very prestigious and any would make an excellent addition to my record."

Spock felt a _frisson_ of unease at her question. He had hoped that she would simply accept his support and move the conversation forward. Of course, he should have expected her to question his reasoning. Cadet Uhura always asked the right questions.

He moved the Spock doll closer to the Uhura doll and used his free hand to place the doll's right hand on Uhura doll's left shoulder. He ignored the small O that immediately formed on the real Uhura's mouth.

"I mean, Cadet, that none of those assignments, save perhaps the Farragut would ensure that it would be easy for me to find you, or reach you, when I have need of you," he admitted, but only because he had agreed to the rules of the exercise.

Uhura dropped her doll and swung away from him as she raised her hand to cover her now gaping mouth.

_____________________

"Cadet, you have released your doll," Spock pointed out unnecessarily. "Should I take this to mean that the exercise has ceased?"

Uhura looked back at the lieutenant, not quite sure she hadn't just overreacted.

"Um, no. No, sir," she said, racing to get her thoughts together before she did anything stupid. Or anything that would be considered _more_ stupid than what she had already done. "I was just, uh, startled. No, we should continue the exercise."

She turned in her seat so that she was facing him once again, one knee resting on the sofa, her other leg resting on her bare ankle. She picked up her doll again and waited while Spock resumed their position.

"Sir," she said, tilting the doll's head up towards the Spock doll's face. "I'm afraid I did not understand your last statement. Please elaborate."

Spock — the real Spock — very nearly smirked at her.

"I believe you understood my last statement perfectly, Cadet," was his only answer.

Uhura bit her lip. All signs pointed to Gaila's record going unblemished, but she wasn't taking any chances. He _would_ explain himself, even if she had to spend all night on his sofa pestering him in order to make it so.

"Sir, I can think of several reasons why you might seek out my company after I graduate: I believe you enjoy conversing, and even debating, with me outside the classroom. It feels as if we have become something akin to friends over the last two years." At the Spock doll's head dip — she wasn't sure if it was in acknowledgement or in agreement — she continued. "I can even foresee occasions where you might wish to consult me on some matter pertaining to my expertise. What I can't imagine, sir, is a situation where you might actually _need_ me."

Before this evening, Uhura had never seen her favorite instructor looking uncomfortable. Tonight, it seemed as is every other word one or the other uttered either had him blushing green or getting that cute little scared look where his lips got all pouty and— Damn it she was getting distracted again!

"Lieutenant Spock," she said, jolting herself, and from the look on his face, Spock, out of a reverie. "You're supposed to answer right away. You aren't allowed to take the time to compose a measured response. Mind meld, remember?"

Spock blinked at her.

"Of course," he said. Shaking his head slightly, he moved the Spock doll's right hand down to the Uhura doll's waist and pulled her even closer. "Cadet," he whispered, "if you were not my student, and we were not in the habit of engaging in informal cultural exchanges over meals, would you still wish to be in my residence this evening."

Not trusting her voice, Uhura pushed her doll's head slowly back and forth.

"And why would you wish to be here, Cadet?" he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

Uhura swallowed. She'd established the rules of engagement. It seemed as if Spock had been attempting to follow them, at times against what was surely his better judgment. She owed it to him to do the same.

Carefully, so as not to jostle the dolls' meld, she wrapped Uhura doll's bendy arms around Spock doll's neck and closed the distance between the two.

"If I had fingers," she had her tiny replica say, "I'd be tearing off your uniform right now. If I had lips, I'd be too busy kissing you to answer this question."

The living, breathing Uhura gave up on the breathing part after the confession.

His "If I had lips, I would be kissing you back," was exactly the reply she'd been praying for.

The "If had been fabricated with the appropriate appendage, I would allow you to remove my clothing, though I would ask that you refrain from 'tearing' it, as I am not in possession of any other garments" sent heat gathering in an area other than her cheeks.

At nearly the same moment, however, they both seemed to remember who had commissioned their dolls.

Uhura snatched her doll back so that the only contact between two at the meld point.

"Lieutenant," she said in her most authoritative tone, "take off your clothes."

Spock cocked his doll's head again.

"Cadet, are you giving me an order?" She could hear the amusement laced in his voice.

"Take off your clothes," she ordered again.

Spock smiled. He actually _smiled_ at her.

This was no tiny quirking of his lips. His mouth was stretched into a broad grin and she even saw a hint of teeth.

"Very well, Cadet," he told her. "I will comply on one condition. You must remove your garments, as well."

Uhura didn't waste any time in dropping her doll in her lap and tugging the little sweater and turtleneck over her head.

Spock danced his doll, pants around its ankles, and black boxer briefs exposed, over to Uhura. He connected the dolls in a fake meld again.

"Nyota-Doll, leave the boots on," he ordered.

Uhura's brows flew up, but she managed to keep her jaw from dropping. Who would have guessed that Spock had a boot kink?

* * *

**A/N:** No, this ain't the end, either.

Disclaimer: Still don't iown them, but it sure is fun writing them.


	6. Playing With Toys

"'Nyota-Doll,' sir?" Uhura asked.

Spock knew immediately that she was addressing _him_, not questioning his stuffed replica on her doll's behalf.

"Cadet," he began, responding in kind, "would you find it sensible if we were to address one another as 'lieutenant and cadet' while we were naked in each other's company?"

She weighed his words, head cocked to the side in an unconscious (or so it seemed to him) of one of his own habitual postures.

"I see your point," she conceded after a moment of thought. Then that smile that had an interesting effect on his nether regions was there again. "So, then, boot kink, yes; authority kink, no?"

Spock felt one corner of his mouth lift up.

"I never said that, Cadet," he murmured, watching, and enjoying, the faint flush that spread from her smooth brown cheeks to the clavicles exposed by her scoop-necked T-shirt. He gently jiggled the doll he still held to indicate that the resumption of the plushies' conversation. "This happens to be one of the cases in which I believe that prudence decrees the most logical path can be found only when one departs from that which many would consider to be the most logical path. Simply stated, Nyota-doll, for the first time we engage in simulated sexual intercourse, it would please me if you were simply my Nyota and I was simply your Spock."

Uhura's smile grew to the point where Spock suspected her cheeks must have started to ache.

"The _first_ time, er, Spock-doll?" She appeared to make no attempt at hiding her amused curiosity. "Do you mean to tell me this isn't going to be a one-off? Are you suggesting the real Spock might be willing to engage in such… play in the future?"

Happily, Spock realized, he did not feel the slightest twinge of annoyance at her less than subtle teasing. Truly, having this conversation with her tonight had been the right decision. For both of them.

"I believe the 'real Nyota' will insist on it," he replied. "And, as it pleases the 'real Spock' to be able to please her, I have little doubt about his future willingness to participate in similar exercises."

Spock noted that his observation had pleased his Nyota; he wanted to capitalize on that pleasure.

"The sooner you have removed all of your clothing, the sooner we can commence our synthetic sex," he reminded her.

"Right. Sorry." Uhura scrambled to remove the remainder of her doll's clothing, leaving the boots on, as ordered.

Having returned his own plushie to his end of the sofa, Spock was not looking at Uhura as he tugged off little Spock's boots, pants, socks and briefs. He did not look up as he undid the little uniform jacket and pulled the long-sleeved black T-shirt over the doll's head.

So his first clue that anything was wrong came when Spock-doll was naked and ready — he made a note to tell his Nyota that Cadet Gaila had sadly underestimated certain parts of his own anatomy. It would not do for Nyota to be unprepared for reality — but Cadet Uhura and Nyota-doll were still on the other end of the sofa.

"Is there something wrong, Cadet?" he asked, and again wanted to kick himself. Of course there was something wrong! The glorious smile, the suggestive grin, the sly, amused lift of her lips were all completely absent. Now her face shifted between anger and confusion and sorrow.

Instead of answering with words, Uhura turned Nyota-doll around and held her up so that it was facing him away from him. Spock blinked in his own confusion.

"Yes, Cadet?" He lifted a questioning brow.

"Sir!" she exclaimed, exasperation coloring her tone. She jabbed a finger at the tiny writing sewn onto the left cheek of the doll's posterior. "Did you do this, Spock?"

He offered her one his increasingly less rare smiles. He understood her problem.

"No, Cadet," he told her. "I believe we have already established that decorative embroidery is currently beyond the scope of my sewing skill set."

"So you didn't put a 'Property of S'chn T'gai Spock' tattoo on her ass?"

Spock continued to smile.

"I did not, though I find the idea intriguing," he said, fighting an irrational urge to laugh out loud. "The most likely origin of the 'tattoo' is Cadet Gaila's desire to establish ownership in the event that the doll was ever lost. There is a similar marking on your Spock doll."

He turned little Spock around so she could see for herself.

______________________

Uhura simply stared at the man she who (she hoped) would very soon be her lover. For a genius, sometimes he played a mean game of stupid when. She was finding it to be one of his more adorable qualities.

"Spock, you know damned well Gaila wasn't worried about either one of us losing these dolls," she said. But she found she was unable to maintain her stern look when he was looking at her with that sexy half smile on his face.

Spock reached out, grasped her wrist and pulled Uhura and her plushie counterpart closer. He placed Spock-doll's hand on Nyota-doll's temple once again.

"Nyota-doll," he whispered, his deep voice gone husky, "as it is getting late, we really should begin our activities."

Uhura tipped her plushie's head down 'til its eyes were pointed towards a point just below Spock-doll's waistline. When her own eyes flicked up to meet Spock's, her mouth was morphing from a small O to large grin.

"Of course, Spock-doll, honey," she said, and pressed Nyota-doll against the bit of green 'flesh' jutting up and out from the Spock.

* * *

**A/N:** Again, just a little something to tide y'all over because of my busy schedule . Definitely more TK within the next two days, however.

Usual disclaimer: I own nothing.


	7. Don't Play With Me

Maintaining contact at her "meld points," Spock ran his plushie's other hand down Nyota-doll's side until he reached her hip. He let the hand drift over her bum, where he paused for a brief caress before slipping just below the rounded cheeks and lifting.

"Place your hands on my shoulders and wrap your legs around my waist," he instructed. His focus seemed to be entirely on the dolls; he didn't look up at the flesh and blood woman sharing his sofa.

Uhura licked her lips and bit back a smile as she complied. She sincerely hoped this was a prelude to the real deal. She hoped Spock was a similar lover to Spock-doll.

"Cadet," Spock said, temporarily breaking out of his role, "before we continue, I wish to assure to that when the comes for you and I to make love, the act will be considerably more time-consuming that this. I'm afraid there's only so much in this area that can be accomplished without a mouth." At that, pressed a finger against Nyota-doll's back, causing the small hole, hidden by synthetic black curls, at the apex of the plushie's thighs, to sheath the stiff bit of green protruding from Spock-doll.

All of Uhura's former enthusiasm for the game had been lost at the moment she started imagining just what Spock intended to do to her with his mouth. She let go of Nyota-doll and Spock took over. Although things looked a little shaky a couple of times, he somehow managed to work the two toys into a rhythm of thrusts and counterthrusts, without dropping the "mind link."

"Perhaps you would like to hint to Cadet Gaila that magnets, inserted into the dolls' hands and heads, might facilitate future exercises such at this one," he suggested in a very matter of fact tone. As if he wasn't completely engaged in fake-fucking one plush toy with another.

Uhura just watched, momentarily speechless. How could he have dropped info like the mouth-thing and then not follow up on it. She felt a tingle somewhere around the apex of her own thighs as her gaze floated over to Spock's mouth.

Damn it! His tongue peeked out between his lips, apparently in concentration. Uhura knew better. The delicious half-Vulcan had _never_ developed that particular human habit.

Clearly he was trying to drive her crazy.

If he didn't stop toying with her and playing with those damned dolls pretty damned quick, he would be successful.

"Spock!" She voice a little sharper than she'd intended, but she succeeded in capturing (most of) his attention. His hands didn't stop the piston-like precision of plushie sliding into plushie as his dark eyes met hers in a heavy-lidded glance and he licked his lips.

She actually jerked at the shot of heat that boiled out of her core to radiate throughout her body.

"Did you need something, Cadet?" His voice was pure molten heat, wrapped up in sex.

Uhura squirmed in her seat. She forced her eyes away from his mouth.

"Tell me," she began, and sucked in a few heavy, halting breaths before continuing. "Tell what you would do. If you have lips. Make him tell her, I mean."

Her gaze started to fall back to full beautifully sculpted lips, threatened to linger there as they curved into a half smile. She snapped her eyes back up to meet what could only be described as bedroom eyes.

"I believe you are seeking the information you originally requested, Cadet." His voice, silky with confidence and seduction, held traces of amusement and… oh damn! was that _desire_ she detected? "Shall I tell you what I _will_ do to you? With my mouth, Cadet?"

She couldn't help it. Hungry eyes locked on his mouth again and stayed there.

"I think you should put away the toys and _show_ me, sir," she breathed. "I think this exercise has successfully proven my point."

Spock didn't let got of the toys, or stop their expertly choreographed dance.

"What point would that be?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Uhura licked her own lips. He really _was_ trying to drive her insane. Or, wild with lust, at least. Same difference. He was succeeding on all sides. She hitched in another shaky breath.

"T-That some things are easier to explore w-with the dolls acting as surrogates," she replied. Ordering her thoughts with great difficulty, she went on. "Toy therapy can make revealing hidden… sentiments easier."

Spock had his doll give one final thrust before slipping the pudgy hand from Nyota-doll's contact points to her back. He laid the plushies down, Nyota-dolls legs, boots and all, still wrapped around little Spock.

He turned his full attention to Uhura.

"Nyota," he said, reaching across the small space separating them to trail fingers from her ear, across her cheek and then down to her chin, "I had every intention of discussing the furthering of the intimacy of our relationship this evening. The dolls simply provided an interesting illustration to our conversation."

A flicker of irritation at his words took off the edge of her arousal, but by no means eradicated it. Involuntarily, she leaned into his continued caress.

"Okay, but what about your lips?" she wanted to know. Getting an answer to her question was more important than purring. Which is what she really wanted to do. Luckily, she was strong enough to resist. "What about showing me?" Gods! If his fingers on her _face_ felt _this_ good… "Your lips, Spock."

He leaned closer and brushed his lips along the same line his fingers had traversed.

"I will show you soon, my Nyota," he murmured against her skin. "When you have completed your exams, when you can no longer be considered my student, and before you take your summer leave, I will do everything to you that Spock-doll could not do to Nyota-doll."

Uhura writhed under is touch, seeking out closer contact. Spock snagged an arm around her waist and lifted her into his lap. She arched her neck, offering her throat to his lips, his teeth, his tongue.

"Everything, Nyota," he rasped, dragging his teeth against her delicate skin. He buried his fingers in her hair. "Everything."

"Now? Please?" For once in her life, she didn't care if the plea made her sound weak. She _needed_ this. Needed him. "Please, Spock."

Spock's lips finally met hers. His tongue explored her mouth. His teeth nipped and scraped, amplifying the flame of her want into an all-consuming conflagration.

The kiss seemed to go on forever and seemed like it would end too soon. She sank into him, feeling as she were touching him and if there could never be enough contact.

"More," she moaned into his mouth, the word a desperate cry for completion. "More, now."

Spock stilled. Lifted his lips from hers. His face smoothed out into its more usually placid lines. The only sign of the passion that had moments ago so ignited hers was his ragged breathing and the hard (larger than she expected) bulge straining at the fabric separating it from her.

"No," he told her.

Uhura blinked. She shook her head.

"Did you just say 'no'?" She couldn't possibly have heard correctly, she told herself. Yes you did, said a voice inside her head. Damn her aural sensitivity.

"I did, Cadet," Spock confirmed.

Uhura stared into his eyes. They still burned with restrained desire. She shifted in his lap. The bulge flinched in response.

This couldn't be happening.

She was straddling him. Her arms were laced around his neck. Her hands crossed behind his head. Her fingers imbedded in his hair. She couldn't remember how she'd ended up that way.

She leaned forward to rest her forehead against his. He closed his eyes and she thought her heard him begin to hum with satisfaction. Damned aural sensitivity.

"Spock," she whispered, her voice controlled and firm, "I am sitting in your lap on top of the biggest erection I have ever felt in my life. You have just finished kissing me to within an inch of said life. What the fuck do you mean, telling me 'no' and calling me 'cadet'?"

He pulled her closer so her center rested more snuggly against him. He hummed again.

"Oh, for the love of all the gods, Spock!" she nearly shouted. "How can you _do_ that?"

Spock shifted his hips to stroke her with his body. Once.

"You aren't seriously going to make me wait, are you Spock?" The anger had leached out of her voice. She sounded plaintive to her own ears. "Sir?"

Spock smiled without opening his eyes.

"I told you, Cadet, I will show you everything as soon as you are finished with your exams." He began lazily rubbing her back.

"I'll only be remaining on campus for three days after exams, sir," she protested.

"Then I suggest you get plenty of rest, exercise and proper nutrients over the next three weeks, Cadet." She was sure there was a smile tugging at his lips. Surely he'd already filled his quota for the night? Hell, for the year! "You will need your strength."

Uhura didn't know where the amusement came from, but suddenly she felt like giggling. She liked this playful Spock, she realized. Just not when he'd left horny as Jim Kirk in a room full of naked supermodels. She batted the lieutenant's shoulder with a loose fist.

"Spock!" she cried.

He opened suddenly serious eyes.

"We have all of next year, Nyota," he murmured, attempting to assure her. "If three days aren't enough, I will show you after you return."

Uhura wasn't ready to be swayed by smooth words. Even from a half Vulcan who almost never lied. She released her hold on him and rolled off his lap.

From the other end of the sofa, the plushies between them once more, she challenged him, "And when you've had enough?" she demanded. "What happens then?"

Spock disengaged the plush toys. He pulled off Nyota-doll's boots and laid her on her back, knees bent, legs spread. He positioned little Spock on top of her, his hips nestled between her thighs.

"I do not believe I will ever have enough of you, Nyota," he told her.

* * *

**A/N:** Winding down. Just two more chapters for this, then I've got to get back to _Compass_ and _Once _and _TCS_. Thanks for all your reviews and enthusiasm!

Disclaimer: I own squat.


	8. Playing Games

Spock occupied himself with positioning the plushies while Uhura sat across from him fuming. He would have much preferred that she had not removed herself from his lap, but he recognized the wisdom in her actions, even if reasons for doing so were not based in logic. Vulcan control, Spock knew, only went so far. She would learn that for herself in time; there was no need, at this time, for her to know just how close he'd been to giving in to her wishes.

"If you would find it acceptable, I could still _describe_ what I will do to you," he offered as he bent little Spock's arms and rested the doll on its "elbows" above the miniature Uhura. With a finger against its pale, faintly green-tinged, buttocks, Spock began moving the plush toy forward and into Nyota-doll.

Uhura grimaced.

"No. I do _not_ find it acceptable," she snapped. "And stop that!" She jabbed a finger at the toys. "How am I supposed to come down when you're doing… that?"

Spock glanced up from the action on the sofa cushions and cocked his head at her.

"I do not wish for you to 'come down,' Nyota," he murmured.

Her mouth opened and closed several times before she managed to ask, "So, you want me to spend the next three weeks living as the female equivalent of a walking/talking erection?"

He felt his lips quirk as a disturbing, yet somehow still amusing, image flashed through his mind. His Nyota truly had a way with words. It was one of her most appealing qualities.

"I would not have used that particular metaphor, but yes," he confirmed, "that is exactly what I wish for you."

Then she was frowning, and displeased him.

It was not illogical, he told himself, that he hated making her frown. If he made her unhappy, she would be less likely to wish to spend time with him. After tonight's revelations, he realized, her continued presence in his life had become not only desirable, but necessary.

He opened his mouth to explain, but she cut him off. "Should I add 'sadism' to your kinks?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest. Spock noticed that this posture had quite an aesthetically pleasing effect on the way the fabric of her T-shirt covered her breasts. "You know, I can deal with the boots and the dominance — I think I'll probably enjoy them, even — but I don't get off on pain, Spock. And this… this _hurts_."

Abandoning his plushie pursuits, he scooted over to her side of the sofa and wrapped her in an awkward hug. Almost instantly, he was gratified to note, she unfolded into a more comfortable position and tucked her head into the crook of his neck.

'I did not mean to cause you pain," he whispered as stroked her hair. His mother had done that for him when he was a boy and he had drawn great comfort from her ministrations. Until he was six years old and told her he was too old for such Terran coddling. It seemed to have a similar soothing effect on Nyota. Really, she was not so different from a five-year-old Vulcan boy. Well, with the exception of a few obvious, rather pleasing, variations in anatomy.

"Then why do you want to leave me like this? For three _weeks_!" she whined. "How do you expect me to get through exams if I'm constantly on edge, _longing_ for you." She punctuated her complaint with an intimate caress that had Spock clenching his jaw to suppress a moan.

"You really should not touch my ears in that way, Nyota," he told her through gritted teeth.

"Why not?" she countered. "Why should I be the only one thinking about… this for the next three weeks?"

Her words were surprising. Spock hadn't realized she'd thought that way.

"You will not be alone in deprivation," he promised. "I will be… _longing_, as well." It was a significant admission. He wondered if she knew just how much it had cost him to utter that word.

Uhura pulled back to look at him. The warmth in her eyes spoke volumes. The trembling, near-smile on her lips said everything else. She was _touched_, as humans would say. Yes, she understood.

"Spock," she whispered, and reached a hand up to touch his cheek, "that is the most amazing thing anyone has ever told me."

He felt himself flush warm with something other than passion. Without conscious thought, he pulled her closer and felt her burble of happiness resonate where her body met his. Vulcan control had never felt more fragile.

She was rubbing her head against the place between his neck and shoulder again when the sound of her voice brought Spock out of his short reverie.

"Fine," she told him. "I'll wait, but I won't like it." He could hear the smile in her voice.

"I assure you, in the end you will find it very much to your liking," was his gentle protest.

"I doubt it," she replied, and this time something like defeat mingled with resignation colored her tone. "But, I'll do it and I'll do well on my exams and if I haven't keeled over from sheer exhaustion — you know I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight, don't you? — I'll have you. I won't be in any condition to enjoy you, but you'll be mine in all the same."

Spock had to take a moment to revel in the unexpected pleasure of being called "hers" before he could focus on reassuring her. He gave her another quick squeeze and a kiss on the head for good measure. He did not trust himself to do more than that.

After lolling about in his own delight for nearly thirty-three point seven seconds, he remembered that the woman in his arms thought he had a sadistic bent. It was something he really needed to remedy before the night was over.

"Nyota," he murmured, his voice gone deep and husky again, "I think you are underestimating the merits of using anticipation in order to heighten shared pleasure."

* * *

**A/N:** Another short one. Not so funny; not so sex; definitely needed. Next one is last. Return of funny, sexy and *gasp!* Gaila.

Usual disclaimer: I own nothing.


	9. Nicely Played

Uhura found herself floating on a cloud of happiness as Lieutenant Spock escorted her back to her dormitory. It wasn't the kind of space she was in any way accustomed to occupying. It was somewhat uncomfortable — almost disquieting as crushing on her instructor had been — but she was too happy to pay the discomfort much attention.

As she bounced along the bush- and tree-lined Academy pathways, openly clutching her Spock plushie, she kept up her end of a covert argument with the real thing. Not that she expected to succeed in changing his mind; she was simply reveling in the challenge presented by the attempt. Just to be on the safe side of things, she utilized her knowledge store of obscure Federation languages to present her line of reasoning.

"It is not that I do not appreciate the benefits to be gained in waiting," she told him in Deltan. "I simply wish to ensure that you understand that waiting too long risks achieving the opposite of your goals."

Spock walked sedately beside her, separated by more distance than was the norm among companions walking together, his hands behind his back.

"My only goal is to avoid consummating our relationship while you remain my student, and therefore remain under my direct command," he replied in the same language. "Already, the activities we engaged in earlier tonight could be said to have put you under undue pressure to… please a superior officer."

She grinned at his word choice, as much like in Standard, the Deltan word "please" could take on many connotations.

"That was your _stated_ goal, sir," she conceded, casting a sidelong glance at his placid face. "But you also asked me if I was aware that a secondary advantage to complying with Starfleet Regulation 573b.26, Section 2207 would be the increased pleasure often experienced when satisfaction is delayed. I may have been in error, but I inferred from your query that you would not be averse to experiencing such… an advantage."

One corner of Spock's mouth ticked up.

"Indeed, Cadet," he said. "Attaining such an advantage is something to be preferred."

Uhura nodded her agreement before following it up with words. "I am in agreement, sir," she stated. "However, it is my belief that you have neglected to take into account another possible result of long term… anticipation."

His curiosity piqued, he quirked an eyebrow at this.

"I am unaware of any result I may have failed to consider, Cadet," he said. "Please enlighten me."

Uhura halted her jaunty steps, placed her hands on her hips and turned to face him as he stopped beside her.

"Sir, when you decided to approach me with your proposed adjustment to our current association _tonight_, three weeks before you will allow the alteration to come to fruition, it seems you did not allow for the possibility that the culmination of waiting might be a _t'ur'autunet'vitud_ which could end up being a disappointment to one or both of us."

"'T'ur'autunet'vitud'? I am unfamiliar with the term," he admitted.

She forced down the self-satisfied grin fighting to spread across her face.

"It is a somewhat obscure term, sir," she told him as gravely as she could manage. "There was nothing of its like in the language before Deltans came into contact with the other Federation species. Actually, sir, it comes from the Orion expression for the same phenomena. Perhaps you would be more familiar with the original phrase."

The other corner of Spock's mouth lifted this time.

"And what would that expression be, Cadet?" he asked, switching to her roommate's native tongue.

Uhura wet her lips preparation and hugged her plushie closer to her chest. She was thoroughly enjoying teasing him.

"_Tirhohinot vitot_," she answered, finally unable to hold back her gleeful grin.

Spock tilted his head to one side.

"I am familiar with the term, Cadet," he told her. He turned and started walking down the path again.

Uhura followed, frowning only slightly. She was a little perturbed that her baiting had failed to have the desired effect, but was determined not to show it.

They reached the long open stretch of pathway leading directly to her dormitory before he spoke again.

"Cadet Uhura." He addressed her in quietly spoken Standard and she skipped a few paces closer to him to better facilitate hearing what he had to say. "I hardly think we need concern ourselves should waiting three weeks result in our first sexual intercourse becoming a 'frustrated fuck.' I calculate the potential for my disappointment in the act, in whatever form it may take, as being less than point zero zero zero one three percent."

Her jaw dropped and her feet stilled. Spock continued on towards her residence hall while she stared at his back for so long she had to run to catch up.

"Sir," she called out as she neared him. "Sir, what about the potential for _my_ disappointment in the act? In whatever form it might take?"

He did not look over at her or slow his pace.

"The odds of your disappointment are so negligible as to, by human standards, be considered statistically impossible, Cadet," he stated, his voice as coolly even as was his wont. "Were I human, your concern would be logical. However physiologically, I am predominantly Vulcan," he continued in explanation. "My stamina is far greater than that of human men. In learning to compensate for my superior strength, I have developed a more precise hand. And I am a touch telepath. You will not be disappointed."

She squeezed her plushie to her chest as ripples of anticipation raced through her body. Lost in imagined shared sensations, she didn't say anything in response. By the time they reached the dormitory, her smile stretched from ear to ear.

Spock stopped just outside the entrance and motioned for her to go in.

"Good night, Cadet," he prompted when she didn't move.

Uhura stood before him, staring, physically incapable of toning down the huge grin. He leaned forward slightly and spoke quietly again.

"Remember, Nyota," he murmured, "you will need to keep up your strength."

She hadn't thought it was possible for her lips to stretch any wider, but they proved her wrong as the implication behind his words sank in.

"Good night, Lieutenant," she said, and went inside the building.

* * *

**A/N:** I must apologize: This isn't the final chapter after all. And there's no Gaila yet.

The word "_t'ur'autunet'vitud_" and the phrase "_tirhohinot vitot_" are adapted from Finnish words.

Disclaimer: I still own squat.


	10. Playing For Keeps

"You've got some explaining, to do." Uhura and her plushie dropped onto the bed next to her roommate.

Gaila broke off painting her toenails, carefully closed the bottle of polish and placed on her night table.

Then she turned to her friend and shoved her. Hard.

Uhura tumbled onto the floor, but managed to save Little Spock from such an ignoble landing by tossing him into the air. He landed safely in the Orion's lap.

Gaila scrambled over to the side of the bed and looked down at her roomie.

"Sorry, Ny," she said, wincing as she watched her friend gingerly sit up, "but I could smell the UST coming off you in waves, and I don't want to catch it. I've got a date tonight."

Glaring up into that apologetic green face, Uhura wasn't sure what had pissed her off more: the cock up with the dolls – why the hell didn't they have mouths? how come Spock's Uhura plushie came with a complete wardrobe?; or landing on her ass just now.

" Look, Lt. Commander Jenkins may look like he's never cuddled up to anything more animated than a transporter console, but the man can tire a girl _out_!" She treated her roommate to a happy grin. "I knew he had it in him. Everyone else may have taken one look at that unibrow and the huge Adam's apple dismissed him out of hand, but he's a _yogi_, Ny. He can twist himself into a pretzel and— ."

"Gaila, I am so _not_ interested in your exploits with Lt. Commander Love Cakes, so, please, spare me the details,"

Suddenly wide awake, she sat up straight and stared into Uhura's eyes.

"Wait a minute, Ny," she said, her eyes flicking over the chronometer on the wall. "It's _vitotten_ quarter to midnight on a school night. You missed _curfew_. Why the hell aren't you asleep already? You're usually home from dinner with Lt. Sexy Ears by nine!"

Uhura grimaced as she got to her feet. The rough fall to the floor wasn't going to help her quest to be in top physical condition in three weeks' time.

"Actually, Gai, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," she told her as she retrieved her precious plushie. "This little guy had a busy night getting acquainted with your other present."

Gaia flew off her bed, grinning and immediately launched into an exuberant happy dance.

"I _knew_ it!" she squealed. "I knew he was as hot for you as you are for him! Damn, I'm good. You can thank me tomorrow, 'cause Lt. Commander Love Cakes, I mean Jenkins, is picking me up for an 'independent study review'" she winked at this "in twenty minutes and I have to finish getting ready."

Uhura had a death grip on her roommate's wrist before the other girl could waltz her way into the bathroom.

"Hold on there, Violetta Valéry, you need to clear a few things up before you go can just go off stomping all over some poor hot geek's heart."

Gaila looked crestfallen.

"_Ny_," she whimpered, "Violetta _died_. Did you forget our rule? Only courtesans who are still alive at the end of the story, please."

Uhura sighed.

"They all die, honey," she said, slinging a comforting arm around the redhead's shoulders. "Just like you will if you don't explain why Spock has a stuffed me sleeping in his bed tonight."

For a moment, Gaila was silent. Then she wrapped an arm around Uhura's waist and rested her head on the taller woman's shoulder.

"I guess that explains why you smell like a Deltan with blueballs," she said.

"Yeah," her friend agreed, "and it's mostly your fault."

___________________

"He did what?!?!" Gaila fell back onto her bed, knees bent, lower legs beating out her mirth against the air. Spasms of laugher wracked her entire body. "Zetlek, I thought the plushie would be a fun way to nudge him in the right direction, but I never suspected he would get _that_ down and dirty!"

She was pleased to find that canceling her date with Lt. Commander Jenkins hadn't totally been in vain. Just imagining the uptight Vulcan lieutenant using soft toys to demonstrate copulation sent her into another fit of giggles.

"Can you imagine what he would have done if they had _mouths_, Ny?" she sighed wistfully. "I bet it would have been hot. Definitely. Those sexy Vulcan lips slowly sliding all over every millimeter of your body. Damn, girl. You missed out!"

Her roommate glared from her perch on her own bed.

"No, I _can't_ imagine what he would have done if you'd seen fit to give the damned dolls lips, but somehow I think my brain is going to spend the next three weeks trying to figure it out anyway," she said through gritted teeth. "Thanks for reminding me. And, yes, it would have scorched, Gaila. As it was, everything he did _sizzled_." She groaned, flopped back on her pillows and covered her eyes with her forearm. "I take back what I said earlier, Gai. This is _all_ your fault."

Gaila had the audacity to laugh.

"Sweetie, lack of sex is causing your synapses to misfire," she chided. "I just secured you the hot sexy boyfriend of your dreams and this is how you say 'thank you'?"

Uhura's arm dropped from her eyes as she turned over so she could stare at her roommate.

"Gai, you secured the _fiancé_ of my dreams for me, and I can't even touch the hot and sexy bits for the next three weeks."

Gaila was off her bed and bouncing up and down on her roommate's before Uhura even saw her coming.

"What?!?!? Move over, girl," she ordered, making herself comfortable in the small bed. "Start over, and this time tell me _everything_. Even if it takes all night."

* * *

"_Nyota," he'd whispered, "I think you are underestimating the merits of using anticipation in order to heighten shared pleasure."_

_He'd eased her back onto his lap, letting out a nearly inaudible sigh as she settled back into place._

"_There's an old Terran saying: 'If it's worth having, it's worth waiting for,'" she observed. " Is that what you're trying to tell me?"_

_The arms holding her had briefly tightened._

"_No," he'd said, "although the idea is apt, I was referring to the additional physical pleasure often derived from the mental stimulation caused by delayed gratification."_

"_Oh!" she'd responded. "I hadn't realized that Vulcans were susceptible to that."_

_He'd ghosted a hand up and down her back, beneath her shirt, sending tingles of pleasure throughout her already sensitized body._

"_I am only _half_ Vulcan," he'd reminded her. "However, even full Vulcans are not immune to the influence. My people's tradition of mental and emotional restraint _does_ allow for the practice. It has proven to be a logical and effective method for teaching control."_

_Both of her eyebrows had flown up and she'd squirmed around in his lap until she could comfortably look up at him._

"_You mean withholding sex is a common training method? I knew Vulcan had its secrets. but that's a biggie!"_

_He'd smiled at her teasing. Another real smile. His lips stretched wide, his white teeth flashing for just an instant. It was the most beautiful thing she'd seen in her life so far._

_She'd pulled his head down and kissed his smiling lips. _

_Fifteen minutes later, when they'd finally come up for air, both of them shaken and shaking from the intensity of shared emotion and mutual passion, Spock had indicated it was time for her to leave._

"_It is for the best, Cadet," he had murmured while leaving a trail of tiny nips and nibbles along her clavicles, "lest we lose our advantage completely."_

_Her hands had been buried in his dark glossy hair, urging him on, and thrilling at the feel of having _Spock_ under her fingertips._

"_You mean you are in danger of relinquishing your Vulcan control," she'd said, teasing him again._

_She'd felt his third smile against the flesh covering her collarbone. "Indeed," he had agreed, "that is exactly what I mean." _

_Then he'd lifted his face from her skin and her body from his lap._

"_I will change into my uniform and then escort you to your residence hall," he'd told her as he stood and then walked towards his sleeping chamber. _

_Somehow, he'd managed to pull on an mask of cool aloofness that probably would have fooled anyone who hadn't just spent the last three hours kissing and touching, and being kissed by and touched by, him. Fortunately, Uhura had passed her crash course in_ Advanced Spock _with flying colors._

"_May I watch?" she'd called out before he was halfway across the room._

_He'd stopped, turned and regarded her with those dark, intense eyes._

"_Cadet," he said, his even tone betraying none of the internal conflict she knew he was experiencing. "I am well past the age where I need assistance in exchanging my garments."_

_She'd refused to be dissuaded. He wanted her to see, probably as much as she wanted to see, she'd been convinced._

"_I don't want to help." She'd shot him a rueful smile at her obvious prevarication. "Well, I won't _try_ to help. I'll look without touching. I promise."_

_He'd been so quiet, she'd thought he was going to refuse her no matter how much the both wanted this._

"_Very well," he'd said at last, and turned back towards his bedroom. "There is a chair you may sit in. You must not leave it until I am re-clothed. Is that understood, Cadet?"_

_She'd nodded her head vigorously, even though his back was to her._

"_Of course, Lieutenant."_

_He'd pointed out the plain wooden chair near the bed, and she'd sat down, gripping the seat under her thighs for good measure. He had nodded in approval._

"_Please remain that way, Cadet," he'd ordered._

________________

"Zetlek! He made you sit there the way you have to when you get a lap dance in strip club?" Gaila's unrestrained laughter shook the small bed.

Uhura's barely restrained glare shut her up.

"Do you want to hear the rest, or not?" she asked.

Gaila attempted to look contrite, failed miserably, but urged her friend to continue anyway.

"Really, I'm sorry. I'll try not to interrupt again," she said.

The look Uhura shot her way bubbled with disbelief, but she didn't call the Orion on what was most likely to be an empty promise.

"Anyway, I was sitting there, holding on to the seat," she continued, cutting her eyes at Gaila, "apparently as if I was waiting to get a lap dance — one day you're going to explain that one to me, but it won't be tonight — and Spock goes across the room to a bureau and pulls out underwear and sock, then over to his closet and to take out his uniform. He lays everything carefully on his bed, and then he turns back to me… ."

________________

"_How would you like to proceed, Cadet?" he had asked her. _

_At first, she hadn't known how to respond. So she said the first thing that came to mind. "Just do whatever it is you usually do."_

_He hadn't appeared uncomfortable, just uncertain, standing there in the loose trousers and sage green long-sleeved T-shirt._

"_I do not usually disrobe before an audience," he had explained. _

"_Oh, well, um, can you… will you take off your shirt for me?" she'd asked then. "I would like to see you shirtless."_

_He'd complied, slowly shrugging first one arm, then the other out of the T-shirt, before pulling the whole thing over his head. The process had left his dark hair mussed and she'd wanted to use her fingers to comb it back into place._

_She had watched as he carefully folded the shirt and then turned to place it on the bed beside the uniform before facing her again._

_He'd allowed her time to let her eyes roam over his lithe torso. Dark, soft-looking hair had covered his well- defined pectoral muscles and trailed down over his toned abdomen to disappear beneath the waistband of his creamy trousers._

_Her gaze had floated over his broad shoulders and down his leanly muscled arms. Without realizing it she'd licked her lips as her sight slid over the black hairs dotting his forearms to settle on his large hands. Only his slight intake of breath had alerted her to what she had been doing._

"_Pants. Off. Now," she said, somewhat breathlessly._

_Without speaking again, and never taking his eyes off her face, he'd loosened the drawstring of his trousers and gripped one side of the waistband in either hand. Just as slowly as he had removed his shirt, he'd slid the pants down his thighs to his lower legs, and crouching a bit, had removed first his left, then his right foot from the puddle of linen on the floor._

_While she stared at his hands, he'd folded the pants with care and when he turned to place them on the bed, she'd had a magnificent view of his glorious posterior. _

_But when he'd turned back to her again, she'd lost her breath completely._

________________

"Gaila, I almost fell out of my chair!" she whispered fervently. "I can speak more languages than anyone else I know — more than Spock, even — but I do not have to words to describe how absolutely beautiful he is, so I'm not even going to try. Suffice to say, the next three weeks are going to be even harder than I thought they would be."

"Wait a sec, are you telling me he wasn't wearing anything under those trousers? You spent half the night sitting in the man's lap and you didn't notice that before then?" Gaila was astounded at the lack in her roommate's powers of observation

Uhura pouted and clutched Little Spock.

"I kind of had other things on my mind when I was in his lap," she protested.

Gaila's face paled to mint green.

"More important than the most important thing?" she asked, aghast. "Zetlek, Ny. I really have failed you, haven't I? I can't tell you how sorry I am to have let you down like this. I'll make it up to you, girl. I promise!"

A light elbow to her ribs stopped her mid-tsk, and she left off lamenting her "failure" to hear the rest of Uhura's tale.

________________

"_Cadet," he'd told her, "you will have the rest of your life to become accustomed to my body, though I must admit I hope that you will continue to appreciate it, I believe that one day you will not find it as awe-inspiring as you appear to tonight."_

_Uhura had ignored the "awe-inspiring" bit, as she'd been certain he hadn't meant to sound so arrogant. _

"_What do you mean, 'the rest of my life'?" She hadn't been able to dismiss that part._

"_Surely you are aware that Vulcans who choose their own bond-mates usually remain together until one of them dies?" he'd asked, his head held at a puzzled angle. _

_Uhura had found her breath was fleeing her again._

"_You've chosen me?" she's just barely choked out. "You wish to bond with me?"_

_Spock had clasped his hands behind his back and straightened those broad, naked shoulders. The change in posture had had the unintended effect of thrusting his pelvis out slightly and Uhura had gripped the seat of the chair harder to stop herself from reaching out to touch him._

"_Of course I have chosen you, Nyota," he'd told her and she'd shivered at his use of her given name. "What did you think my intentions were?"_

_She had grimaced. "Of _course"_ he wanted to bond with her. How could she have thought otherwise, she'd thought in a fit of unadulterated sarcasm._

"_I don't know," she'd said, her voice weak in her own ears. "When did you decide this? I thought you wanted to start _dating_ me. Most likely become my boyfriend. I don't know." She'd run a frustrated hand through her hair. "I really hadn't thought anything beyond finally being with you," she'd admitted._

_Spock, still naked, had crouched before her, his hands resting on his muscular thighs._

"_Nyota," he'd said, "I have known I wanted to bond with you for two years, seven months, six hours and seventeen minutes that I wanted you for my mate."_

_Her jaw _had_ dropped at this revelation._

"_Since two months after you met me, Spock?" Her voice had been full of the awe he'd suggested was directed towards his physical appearance. "But I was just a silly first-year who thought she knew almost everything."_

_His fingers had twitched as he'd wanted to touch her._

"_Yes, Nyota," he said. "I've been waiting for you to grow up."_

_She hadn't been sure whether to be insulted that he'd thought her immature, or elated that he'd chosen her anyway. She had decided to ignore the debate for the time being._

"_What makes you think I want you for a mate," she'd asked instead._

"_For the past six weeks and four days, you have been broadcasting your feelings so heavily, I was aware of them even without touching you," he'd told her. "It made being in your presence while in public extremely uncomfortable at times. The sensation was so strong that I was compelled to contact my mother to ask if there was a Betazoid ancestor in her background."_

"_Was there one?" she'd wanted to know._

"_She is unsure, but doubtful. Apparently, something similar occurred when she realized she loved my father, but thought she had no chance with him. Her feelings were so strong, it was impossible for him to ignore them. He did the only logical thing in that situation; he married her."_

"_You want to marry me because you think it is the logical choice?" It had felt good, in a way she hadn't understood, to have a reason to back out if she needed one._

"_While bonding is the most logical choice of those that are available to us, you must not forget that I wished to have you as my mate long before I was aware that you were equally attached to me," he'd reminded her._

"_But what makes you so sure I'm equally attached? Yes, I've had a crush on you for the last couple of years, but I wasn't thinking about marriage, about bonding." Her protest had been half-hearted._

"_But, for the last month, you have been thinking about spending you life with me, have you not?" he'd asked._

_She'd known she couldn't start off their new relationship with a bold-faced lie, so she admitted that she had._

"_I am not saying that we have to do this right away, Nyota," he'd assured her. "But I wish you to understand, once I am yours, I intend to remain yours forever. As I expect you to be mine." _

________________

"And that's it, " Uhura told her roommate. "I agreed and then he got dressed and he walked me home."

Gaila wrinkled her nose.

"Okay, if that's how you left things, all love and romance and stuff, I don't get why you smelled so strongly of sexlessness," she argued. "You human women can usually subjugate the need for sex if you have enough love thrown at you. What aren't you telling me?"

Uhura grinned and pressed the side of her head against her friend's.

"I spent the whole walk home trying to convince him that we end up having a tirhohinot vitot if he made me wait three weeks. He wouldn't budge, though. Told me it would be so much better for the wait."

Gaila's peals of laughter rang out again.

"Zet_el_enek, girl, I guess I taught you well, after all!"

* * *

Spock pulled back the duvet and top sheet and placed Nyota-doll on the bed's surface. It was illogical, he knew, to keep the facsimile of Cadet Uhura there, but over the past week, he had become accustomed, as time and circumstance allowed, to dressing the toy in clothing appropriate to whatever activities he believed its real-life counterpart was likely to be engaged in. The practice had begun as an experiment in testing the therapeutic benefits of interacting with the plushie. By now, it was simply habit.

Twitching the doll's brief white sleep shirt so that it more securely covered her matching white panties, he lay down beside it and drew the bed coverings over both of them.

Within minutes, he was asleep.

He did not awake when, sometime in the night, he gave into an impulse to hold Nyota-doll in his arms.

* * *

"You're _so_ not fair, Gaila," Uhura sleepily admonished the dark space to the left of her bed. One arm clutched her Spock plushie under her chin while her other hand stroked the soft cloth of his miniature uniform. "I can't even get him ready for bed."

"Oh, he's ready for bed, sweetie," came the cheeky reply. "It's just gonna take you three weeks to join him there."

* * *

**A/N:** I realize this is a bit of a monster compared to the last couple of chapters, but this is _it_, folks.

At least, that's all for this part of the story.

I will be posting an 11th chapter at lj, but I'm not sure if it's tame enough to post here. WIll have to review other stories to see what's acceptable. If it makes the grade, look for it as a separate M-rated fic, titled _**Playing With Toys**_: _End Game_. Otherwise, look for it on lj by Saturday morning.

Usual disclaimer: I own nothing.


	11. Go Directly to End Game

When the his office door chimed well after office hours two days before the end of exams, Spock expected the usual panicked cadet seeking him out to beg for eleventh-hour assistance. He was therefore very surprised to find instead, the smiling green face of Cadet Gaila, who had already taken her Advanced Systems Programming exam and turned in her final project.

The Orion entered his office in a lively manner quite dissimilar to that of most who sought out his company there. In fact, Spock could not remember a single instance before where anyone had _bounced_, as a human might say, into this particular room situated in the Hsu Lang Computer Sciences Building.

"Oh good, Lieutenant," she said as she approached his desk, swinging a large cloth bag. Her steps lost none of their exuberance in deference for the small space, "I'm so glad I found you here! I was afraid I was going to have to head all the way over to your quarters. Looks like I dodged Zetlek's arrow this time." She smiled even wider, dropped her bag on the floor and abruptly made use of the chair before his desk by means of thrusting her buttocks back while (apparently simultaneously) lifting both of her feet from the floor. She landed in the seat with a faint thud.

Spock lifted a highly mobile eyebrow.

"Cadet," he said, "as you have already completed your coursework and examinations for Advanced Systems Programming, I cannot help wondering what brings you to my office today." He eyed the bag on the floor warily.

Cadet Gaila winked at him.

"But I'll bet you can give a pretty good guess," she said with a little laugh.

He did not sigh. He wanted to of course — Cadet Gaila had that effect on _many_ in her acquaintance — but he refused to give in to the urge.

"If pressed to speculate, I would presume that your visit had something to do with the small gold-colored box protruding from your bag," he told her in his customarily flat tones.

"You would presume right!" she exclaimed, smiling broadly.

Then she snatched the box from the bag and leapt to her feet. With what Spock did not doubt was a valiant attempt at looking solemn, the red-haired cadet stepped up to his desk and presented the box to him in two outstretched hands.

"I hope you will find this small token of my appreciation and of my faith in you useful, sir," she said in an equally valiant attempt to _sound_ as solemn as she had attempted to appear. Unfortunately for the cadet, her voice was still laced with laughter and traces of a smile remained on her lips.

Spock accepted the box and thanked her anyway.

Cadet Gaila pivoted smoothly and bent to pick up her bag, giving him an unasked-for view of her red uniform briefs in the process. (Prudently, he turned away before she glanced back to see if her was looking.) She straightened up and headed for the door.

Just before exiting, she looked back at him over her shoulder.

"Open that before you see Ny on Thursday, sir, but don't open it here," she ordered. With another wink, she left Spock alone in his office.

* * *

**A/N:** And the rest is posted in a separate fic Playing with Toys: End Game, 'cause it's M-rated folks. Grown folk can find it at /s/5387520/1/

Usual disclaimer: I don't own 'em!


End file.
